Halls of Erebor
by DL-Blanca
Summary: She was their Guardian in another world, meant to protect them at their most vulnerable. Never was she meant to enter the canon - it was too dangerous. And yet, as they embark into the last installment of their Quest, she just cannot stay behind.
1. Erebor

A portal flickered blue in the early morning grey, just as the mountain shook with the last outburst of Smaug's wrath. Out of it, to the platform in front of the hidden door, jumped a figure that seemed to be not much more than a shadow. She – for it was plain to see, eventhough the contours were not entirely clear, that this was a female – quickly scanned her surroundings, then caught a glimpse of her body, held a hand in front of her face and shook her head in a sort of quiet resignation. She slipped in through the hidden door at the last moment before the tremor shut them. She spared one look at the carving above the door, before starting down the winding path.

The halls of Erebor were huge, almost foreboding. The stone walls caught and reflected light in the most peculiar way she has ever seen. The stillness was almost unnatural. She roamed through the corridors, her feet making barely any sound, almost not touching the ground. There air was heavy with smoke and stench of the beast that has made its lair here, but there was something else too – a metallic quality. She never before smelt gold, and would not believe it was possible. At last she came to the Gallery of kings, as Thorin called it, where the company – or what was left of it, at any rate – stood assembled. She felt an unpleasant lurch in her stomach, as she was reminded of the danger Kili, Fili, Bofur and Oin faced at that moment. But there was no time to brood. The group was breaking up and everyone started in different directions, scouting the place, trying to take in the full extent of the hoarded treasure, taking up watch and above all – by Thorin's orders – looking for the Arkenstone.

She kept to the shadows, not knowing whether her friends will be able to see her – and not wanting to be revealed so soon. She eyed Thorin, as he stood for a few more heartbeats in front of what had moments before been a mold for a golden statue of Thror, and felt a shiver down her spine.

"I have no idea whether I am more impressed by the audacity of that design, or repulsed by the pride and narcissism of it," she muttered under her breath. Then she ran after Thorin, who headed towards the place from which he pulled his grandfather away all those years ago. His head was hung, his expression dark, as he began wading through the heaps of coins, chains, wrought decorations and other treasures. It sounded like a thousand little bells when the pieces of treasure shifted, a cheerful and bright sound that was terribly out of place in the overall atmosphere. Thorin seemed not to hear it. Determined and grim, he looked for the Arkenstone. The ultimate sign, that he, and only he, is the rightful King under the Mountain – that this venture and all those pains had not been in vain. Her heart ached seeing that expression, catching a glance of the hunger creeping its way into those bright eyes.

"Stop," she whispered, sitting on the stone steps, her knees suddenly giving way under her. "Please, Thorin. Don't go any further. Just wait. Wait until you hear that Smaug will return no more. Wait until you know Fili and Kili are safe. Surely you must be more worried for them now. The Arkenstone will be found. It will be brought to you, when it is found. And if it isn't, what does it matter? You don't need it. You don't need the heart of the Mountain to rule. You need the hearts of your people. Hearts made of sinews and blood. Hearts beating for you and for this kingdom. No single stone can return Erebor to its former glory, whatever Gandalf says. No stone can unite the Seven Kingdoms again."

He stopped and looked around, as if hearing something. She stood up again and walked over to him, gently touching his shoulder, willing him to see.

"My king. Your work is just about to start. Focus on that. Focus on building, on the future. Let the past lie where it has fallen. It no longer matters. You united the dwarves with nothing but an oaken branch – it's you they need, not the stone."

He listened for a moment more, eyes focused on something only he could see, then shook himself, getting rid of her hand. He didn't see her, didn't hear and didn't feel. Somehow that hurt more than everything else.

"You shouldn't have come here, my love," she whispered, shaking her head and turning to leave.

Balin walked through the corridors and halls as quickly as he could without it being called running. His steps headed automatically to the balcony over the main gate, the rampart from which he first saw Smaug. He touched the fire-blackened stones, ran his fingers along the cresses of the old sculptures and plastics.

"So you came after us anyway, at last," he spoke, his back turned to her, just as she stepped out and leaned on the railing to look down. She jumped guiltily.

"How did you know I was here? None of the others saw me, and they were looking straight at me," she inquired, going back to looking over the plain in front of the Mountain, trying to discern Smaug's silhouette in the distance – or the Laketown, or anything at all. But she saw only the Desolation, and what once was the proud Dale.

"I've been expecting you. I saw you watching him, as we were leaving. And even though you tried to be cheerful and supportive, your smiles never quite made it to your eyes that day. You were giving him a goodbye that felt so… final. But – forgive me for saying so – I came to know your heart and I had a feeling that you wouldn't just let him disappear from your sight. After all, you are his guardian spirit," the old dwarf smiled at her fondly, as she finally turned to look him in the eyes.

"Not only his, I hope, dear friend," she returned the smile and he took her shoulder. But then her smile faded as she turned back to the view once more. "Balin, this is wrong. I am not supposed to be here. This is a world I don't belong into, whatever I might wish."

"And yet, here you are. Breaking every one of your rules I know of. I wish I knew why."

"Not every single one, Master Balin. I still won't give you my reasons. But I'll stick around for a while, if you don't mind."

The white-haired dwarf looked at her for a moment more with his penetrating gaze, and then turned to the horizon. They stood in companionable silence, until Thorin's voice called them back inside.

She spent the next couple days at Thorin's shoulder, trying to whisper calming words and well meant advice into his unhearing ears. He sent Nori to find what he could about the fate of those remained in Laketown. Nori came back bearing only tidings of fire and destruction. She saw the pain flicker in Thorin's eyes, heard the reprimands he heaped upon himself in private and whispered words of hope in their wake. Still there was no sign of Smaug. And still they were sifting through the gold to find what has already been found. All the while, she was aware of Balin's eyes following her, studying her, scrutinizing her moves, gauging her moods. For all that, he saw, just as she saw, Thorin sliding under the current of the dragon sickness. Balin watched, just as she watched, with much the same feelings, Thorin's eyes glazing and clouding over, his mind reeling and his temper rising with each day, the hunger and lust flaring a bit higher in him every moment. She never left Thorin's side. Her lips were always muttering words reminding him of his wandering kin flocking back to the Kingdom, under the reign of their King. Of the need to take care of them, of the need to prepare the Mountain for their return. And of them needing the eyes, mind and heart of their king first and foremost on and for themselves, not the treasure strewn around.

She hoped that even if he ignored her during the day, some of her words or songs will make it through to him during the nights. She was pleased to find out her new 'body' did not require sleep or nourishment. And so she sat by him in the few hours he allowed himself to pass out every night. Spinning the stories of past, present and future, or gently humming and singing the Lonely Mountain song – the one that in another world carried the power to break any spell, set anything right again. She sang I See Fire – the one song that brought him to her after the Desolation – was it really just months before? And she sang to him the song of the prophecy – of the King returned to his halls, of the triumph and joy it caused to all dwarvenkind. Sometimes her voice broke and cracked under the weight of her tears. Sometimes she just laid her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, as if to assure herself he is not turned to stone yet. But whatever she did, she could not stop the tide of the sickness and she couldn't slow down the passing of time.

And then, one day the heralds came, bearing the tidings of the beast's death. Talking of the members of Company still in their Master's custody. Asking for treasure for themselves and for the Elvenking. Thorin's fury flared mighty and dreadful that moment. Even she turned away. That night she watched the hapless, well-meaning burglar, sneak out of the mountain and run into the camp of the enemy. She sat with Thorin and prayed to Mahal and every other Vala that would listen that his reaction is not as fierce the next day.

It was unnerving. Hearing Thranduil's boasts made her blood boil. But worse still was hearing the calm logic and reason of Bard. Because that Thorin should listen to. That Thorin should be agreeing to. And yet, his answer for both was the same. His treatment of Gandalf and Bilbo bore not pondering on. She screamed at him, wanting to argue, like they did so many times before. But he didn't hear and her strength became depleted. She was crying, begging him to reconsider, begging for him to finally hear.

She knew the fateful battle was drawing near. She saw the darkening of the horizon when she stepped out on the balcony. She saw the ravens circling around. She saw Dain's battle ensigns flapping in the wind as his army was marching to push the elves and men away. And then, one day, she saw the dark armies, as thin lines, barely visible on the horizon, drawing steadily nearer to the Lonely Mountain. She shouted a warning, sounded the alarm, not caring who will hear or see her now. And then she ran back to Thorin's side, as he hastened to the main gate, shouting orders to his men. As he stopped, checking his weapons for the last time, drawing one last breath, steadying himself and ordering his thoughts, she threw her arms around him.

"I won't leave you. I swore I would protect you, and by the Valar I will," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes, her lips brushing his temple with a soft kiss as she let him go and stood firmly just behind him. Balin took a place by his king's side and the rest of the company assembled quickly behind them, weapons at ready. Numbered only nine, they marched out of the Mountain. And then they were met by the four they thought lost – Fili took his place by his uncle's side, Kili joined Ori in the back, his bow poised for attack, Bofur quickly hugged his brother and stood next to him, and Oin nodded to Gloin on his way to the two youngest lads. Last looks exchanged, last words of encouragement and love muttered between them, they stood side by side, prepared to face just about anything. At that moment, she felt immense pride in all of them. Their determination was still as fierce as when they first set out from the Shire. Their loyalty was not changed nor diminished. They still had hearts willing to stand and fight for the kingdom so close at their fingers now. Fight for their home. Fight for their kin. Fight for their king. Fight for their honor.


	2. Battle and aftermath

_**A/N: Sadly, still not mine. Except for the shadow-woman.**_

The battle was far worse than she could imagine. The stench, which the nose refused to get used to. The sheer, staggering number of things one should be minding, and looking out for at once. The dizzying quickness and savage power with which every attack, block and counter-atack were delivered. And above all the deafening, absolutely incredible and indescribable racket, cacophony of so many awful, nerve-wrecking sounds at once. She knew she was way out of her depth here. She was never cut out, let alone trained for any of this. She could do nothing. Yet, she stood her ground, just a little way behind Thorin, tearing one arrow after another from her quiver; shooting enemies that got too close unnoticed by the furiously fighting dwarf. It wasn't enough. There were too many of them, and she saw Thorin fall, cut down by several orcish blades. She was at his side, catching him, before he hit the ground. She held him propped up in her arms, with his head resting against her chest. She whispered into his ear again, soothingly. And for the first time, despite the earsplitting noise of the battle, he seemed to actually hear her. He looked into her eyes, and for a moment, he was her old Thorin again, all traces of the sickness gone. His eyes held more questions than she had time to answer, but his lips turned up in a smile. She smiled right back, fighting with all her might to keep the tears she felt, threatening to overwhelm her, at bay. It all lasted but a second and then his eyes slid closed. She gently laid him down, and threw herself back into the fury of the battle, to the side of Fili and Kili, who now fought to protect their uncle's lifeless body.

She was unsure whether it was a curse or a blessing that Kili was unable to see her. The hours they spent training together gave them a synchronization that would be very useful right now. But if he knew she was here, he would try to protect her – and she couldn't allow that. His quiver was almost depleted now, as was her own. Soon he switched to a sword, fighting back to back with his brother. She tried to shout at them to get away, not that she really expected them to hear her – or to listen, even if they did. She did her best to protect them. And she failed, just as she failed with Thorin. After her arrows were depleted, she took up the Orcrist, knowing Thorin won't be using it anymore. But she was far from skilled with the weapon and tiring quickly in the onslaught. In one, last, desperate attempt to protect at least the one she came to think of as her younger brother, she threw herself in front of Kili, to stop the blade and arrows headed for him with her own body. It was in vain as the weapons flew right through her, as if she was but air. She saw both of the brothers fall, and when they did, she dragged them over to Thorin, and sat with them, tending to their wounds as best she could under the conditions and making sure no other harm will come to them, until finally, the battle was over. She wiped away tears that she could no longer stop, and went to find Balin, to lead him to them, knowing it will break his heart.

She stood by as Oin and other healers fussed and ran around, doing their best to save their king and his sister-sons. From what she saw in the battlefield and from their rising desperation she knew their attempts were futile at best. She knelt by Kili kissing his forehead.

"I'm here, little brother. Everything is fine…you are in Erebor," she whispered, brushing a lock of his unruly hair off of his forehead. He smiled in his sleep, and she squeezed his hand before moving to Thorin.

He was just regaining consciousness, the names of his sister-sons first on his lips, closely followed by her own. Her heart skipped a beat. The clearly confused healer mumbled something about Fili and Kili being treated and then took leave to call Oin. She used her opportunity to grab Thorin's hand, leaning above him.

"I am here, my king," she whispered, caressing his cheek. "I told you I won't leave you."

"You told me… you'll wait… for me… in the… other world…"

"And I will be waiting there when you are ready to return. But for now, there are still matters to attend to here, so let's focus on them."

"The…the Halfling… I need to…" his eyes went out of focus again, and he drifted off. She stayed by him whispering and humming tenderly again. She watched as he apologized to Bilbo. She held Thorin's hand through his last moments. And then it was over. She felt as if someone whacked her across the head with a war hammer.

Her heart shattered to million pieces. At last, Thorin had his precious Arkenstone pressed to his heart. But he didn't know it. He no longer cared. His heart could no longer quicken its pace at the sight and feel of the heart of the Mountain in his possession. He was laid on a stone slab, prepared for the funeral.

A pale, very quiet and very somber Balin stood vigil at the head of the slab, guarding the bodies of his king and the two young princes through the long days and nights. Dwalin stood at the feet of the slab, as motionless and pale as his older brother. They might as well have both been carved out of stone, she thought, as she stood looking from afar. Her tears long since dried out. Now that she no longer had Thorin, to protect and whisper to, she stood sentinel over his most trusted councilor. She watched Balin's eyes cloud over by some dark memory, only to be lightened a while after that and sparkle with joy and maybe even humor. The eyes were the only think giving away that Balin was still alive. She watched as tears began to trickle from those kind warm eyes and could not hold herself any longer. She stepped to the other side of the head of Thorin's slab, barely entering the white-haired dwarf's peripheral vision. She remained there, motionless and without a word, just like him. Only she wasn't looking straight ahead, as he did. She looked at Thorin's face, and then directly at Balin.

"Why?" the one word she was dreading. The one word, that sounded and felt like a slap in the face in the oppressive stillness of mourning.

"I don't know," she whispered back.

"You swore to protect him."

"In another world, I would have. I would have given my life for his, you know that."

"He cared for you deeply, in that other world of yours."

"I cared for him in every world. To have his esteem – at least for a moment – was more than I ever imagined."

"Is that why you came here?"

"I couldn't leave him alone. And I wouldn't leave you alone, my friend."

"Why didn't you warn us? We would have protected him. We could have saved them," his eyes shot to both sides, where the slabs of the two princes gleamed cold and white.

"You know I couldn't risk it. I couldn't change the course of this world. Each one of you has a destiny. Each one of you that remains still has a journey to complete. I couldn't… and wouldn't… change that."

"Because if you did, you would be no better than those you were fighting against. Out of the respect for the story, and out of the respect and love for us,… you wouldn't," he heaved a sigh, and she knew he understood.

"The dragon sickness claimed Thorin before death. You saw it yourself. He wouldn't have been the King you wished for. He wouldn't have been the king he strove his whole life to be. In a way his injury – and death – has set him free again and from that alone we may draw comfort. In another world, in another life, our love and respect would have been enough to protect him. Would have been enough to build the Kingdom, without all those terrible losses. But not here."

"How could you have born it? Coming here, knowing what was going to happen. Or were you hoping to save him? To break the rules and change the course of this world?"

"I have no power here – not to protect, nor to change anything. I suspected that, when I decided to come. And I knew, when after coming here I was given this wretched wraith-like form."

He said no more. And so they stood together, silent, each lost in their own pain, for hours. Until the old dwarf finally broke the silence once again:

"I was afraid of Thorin giving up what he built in Ered Luin. Yet I never imagined it could end like this. Failure was always a very real option, yes. Even death seemed constantly hovering just out of sight, just a stone-throw away in our adventures. But to be so close to success… to reclaim the Kingdom, only to lose the King… is a cruel trick of fate. What shall we do now… once again leaderless and this time with no prince to pick up an oaken branch? Will the kingdom even be rebuilt, if there is no one to rule?"

She couldn't tell him. Couldn't explain that the big picture didn't care about the kingdom. Didn't care about the dwarf on the throne. The universe – and its creator – only needed Smaug gone. The evil was subdued, the enemy was weakened. The fate didn't care about individuals and shattered hearts.

"One person cannot make or break a kingdom. Not even one as majestic as Thorin Oakenshield. He cleared the way for you and showed you the direction. It is now your responsibility, to tread the path and make sure you arrive at your destination," she said instead, hoping it will give the old dwarf more consolation than she was able to draw from it.

"He inspired loyalty, respect and courage. None other than him would succeed in this quest," Balin remonstrated.

"He was your king and there will never be another like him. But he lives on, as a symbol. Just like the Arkenstone, he will be the measure of all true kings of the future. And there will be king Thorin in Erebor again. That I can promise you."

"The price is so high that I can't decide, whether it was worth it at all," he shook his head once again. "Suddenly Erebor does not seem like a good place to live… like a home… anymore."

He didn't think about his claim to the throne. Only third in line, now, he didn't want to be king. And suddenly she wished he would be. She wished Dain and his son Thorin would just disappear into the Iron Mountains and Balin would rule Erebor in their stead. But that was not going to happen and she shook the thought away.

They stood side by side, each mourning the loss in their own way. There was just one thing to be scared of now. One thing she knew was weighing heavily on Balin's mind.

_How do you tell a woman, she is the last survivor of her family? How do you tell her she lost a dearly beloved brother and not one, but both sons at the same moment? How do you help her cope with that kind of loss?_

_**A/N: Loved it? Hated it? Tell me about it! Reviews are good for your soul and will be highly appreciated (even nasty flaming ones).**_


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